


On Two Idiots and Christmas Themes

by arsenicandsunshine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Good Old Fashioned Merthur Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, New Year's Eve, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicandsunshine/pseuds/arsenicandsunshine
Summary: Arthur’s quite a fan of Christmas. Though apparently not as big a fan as Merlin, given that a certain someone just broke into his flat to decorate it. Also if he could stop staring at his best friend like he’d like to snog him, that’d be great to. Most wonderful time of the year, indeed. Modern AU with our favorite idiots in love but they don’t know it yet.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 373





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s Christmas and we all deserve some Merthur fluff. Many thanks to thief_of_eddis for bouncing ideas around with me, and being such an encouraging sir.

A sharp stab of panic went through Arthur’s chest, keys dangling from his fingertips. He’d just unlocked the door to his flat, and could see objects scattered on the floor, dim in the Christmas lights. Break in. He edged further into the flat, gripping his keys in his fist. There was more of a glow from the tree lights than he expected. 

His shoulders sagged in relief when he spotted a rumbled figure asleep on the sofa.

“Merlin!”

A mop of black hair raised itself from a pile of Christmas decor.

“Arthur?”

Arthur narrowly avoided running into a giant nutcracker. The four-foot-tall monstrosity had the audacity to be grinning at him in his front hall.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Silver stuck under Arthur’s shoe and then clung to his trousers. 

“And why is the floor covered in tinsel?”

“It’s ... festive?”

Arthur stopped in front of the sofa, planting his hands on his hips.

“The floor.”

“Yes.”

“Needs to be festive.”

“It’s Christmas, Arthur.”

“What it is is almost midnight. And you’re asleep on my sofa. In the middle of Christmas decorations I don’t remember buying.” 

Arthur raised his eyebrows, hoping to get across to Merlin how ridiculous this was. Merlin sat up, shaking off a stray stocking.

“Is it that late?”

Arthur looked around his flat. The only thing Merlin hadn’t touched was the Christmas tree in the corner. Arthur was proud of that tree. He’d picked out the perfect one, even if he hadn’t gotten around to actually decorating it yet. He had even bought new ornaments for it. Well, a new box or two. The rest had been his mother’s he’d rescued from the donation bin after his father decided he had enough reminders of his dead wife around. Upon closer inspection, it looked like Merlin had decorated the bottom half of the tree.

Arthur groaned.

The rest of the flat was thinly veiled chaos. There were strings of lights around the windows. Extra strings of lights around the windows. Lights Arthur hadn’t put up. There were garlands destined for somewhere, at the moment draped over the back of his chairs. Fluffy cotton batting covered mantle, miniature houses nestled into it. Boxes of decorations crowded around the edge of the coffee table, perilously close to the edge.

The thing that really creeped him out were the four-feet-tall, plastic, figurines scattered everywhere. Arthur was pretty sure they were outdoor decorations. For a reason. There were some things no one wanted staring at them while they ate dinner. A particularly menacing Frosty was grinning at him from the corner near the window, oversized candy canes leaning on it.

“It looks like the North Pole threw up in here.”

“You mean it doesn’t look like Scrooge’s flat anymore.”

“Scrooge’s—My flat looked fine before!”

“It does look great, doesn’t it?” Merlin grinned at him, glitter from God knew where sticking to his cheekbones. And his hair.

“Merlin.”

Merlin stretched and covered up a yawn. “It’s my favourite time of year.”

“Yes, Merlin, but that doesn’t explain why you’re decorating my flat.”

“It needed it.”

A beat passed between them.

“Badly.”

Arthur searched for something to throw at Merlin’s head that wasn’t breakable.

“What’s wrong with my Christmas decorations!”

“What Christmas decorations is right.”

Arthur sighed and cracked his neck. He was home from a last minute business trip hours later than he expected. All he wanted was to face plant into his bed for a few hours before his next meeting. Christmas just meant his father’s push to “make up for” the time everyone would have off over the holidays. And Arthur, as always, bore the brunt of it. Merlin looked up from fiddling with a mechanical reindeer and grinned.

“That thing you’re holding better not sing.”

Merlin’s grin widened. Arthur suppressed the urge to throttle him then and there as the reindeer started belting out “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.”

“That’s the wrong song,” Arthur muttered, as he flopped onto the sofa next to Merlin.

Merlin’s grin had spread into that smile of his that crumpled his whole face up in joy.

“It’s great, right?”

Arthur blew out a breath. “Yep.”

Merlin fiddled with his mobile, the sounds of Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album breaking the quiet in the flat. The two of them sat there, surrounded by soft glow from the lights on the tree and around the windows. And in a few places that, frankly, made less sense. Arthur’s shoulders relaxed a little. He really did like his flat like this, not that he was going to admit that out loud to Merlin. It was peaceful.

Until Merlin started in with the signing reindeer again.

“Well there you go again, ruining the mood.”

“Sorry! Didn’t mean for it to--” Merlin broke off as he continued spinning the plastic reindeer around. He raised his head in horror. “It doesn’t have an off button.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and took the reindeer from Merlin, flipping it over and popping open the battery cover.

“Now that feels like murder.”

“It’s a plastic reindeer!”

“And you murdered it!” Merlin shook his head. “This is why I’m here. Got to get you into the Christmas spirit.”

“I love Christmas, I’m just not a maniac about it.”

“Ok, Scrooge.”

“Just because not all of us cover every available inch of our flat in cheap plastic and glitter—” 

“Hey!”

Arthur sighed. “Well let’s get this done so I can go to bed.”

Merlin picked up the plastic reindeer and reinserted the batteries, whisking it away and onto the half wall between the living room and the kitchen before Arthur could protest.

“So why is only the bottom half of the tree decorated?”

“I got distracted,” Merlin said, picking up a stocking from the sofa arm. He took it to the mantle and then let it dangle from one hand while he adjusted a snow globe.

“Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“You’re distracted again.”

Merlin dropped the stocking and picked up one of the ornament boxes from the coffee table.

“Right.” Merlin straightened the ridiculous Santa hat on his head. “Let’s get your flat ready for the season.”

Arthur let Merlin add the remaining ornaments to the tree while he tried to corral the rest of the decorations scattered around the flat. Just because he had gotten a tree and hadn’t gotten around to putting ornaments on it yet didn’t mean he was a Scrooge.

Merlin laughed when Arthur voiced the thought.

Finally, Arthur thought the tree was done and ready for the tree topper. It was fine. It would be fine if Merlin would stop fussing with the tinsel. And the glass ornaments. And the lights.

“Merlin, it’s fine.”

“Hang on, I’m almost done.”

“You’re fussing.”

“Fine. You can put the topper on the tree.”

Arthur glared at the outstretched angel. And Merlin’s eyes twinkled in the Christmas lights, in a way that was both endearing and made Arthur want to throw things at his head. Arthur took the tree topper. 

“What I want is to go to bed, Merlin.”

“Oh, the tree is just the beginning.” Merlin grinned, pushing the Santa hat back up again.

“It’s nearly one am.”

“So?”

“Not all of us are freelancers who can sleep until noon.”

Merlin was trying to untangle a strand of white lights. He said nothing for a long moment, his intense focus on the lights. Arthur didn’t miss the flinch.

“I work just as hard as you do,” Merlin, almost more to himself than to Arthur. 

Arthur bit back a joke, feeling bad for putting that stressed out, desperate look on his best friend’s face. He knew that desperation of not being enough all too well, guilt surging for subjecting Merlin to it. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, softly.

Merlin yanked harder at the lights, just making the tangle worse. Arthur took part of the strand from Merlin, tossing the untangled half behind him and picking at one of the knots.

He settled a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin’s hands stilled, gripping his half of the lights he’d utterly refused to let Arthur take. Stubborn arse.

Arthur’s heart ached. Frank Sinatra filled the quiet of almost one in the morning. That precious time after midnight when the space between the truth and the masks of the workday was perilously thin. He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder and let his hand drop.

“Let’s wrap this up, so we can both get some sleep. I’ve got a meeting early tomorrow. Last thing before the holidays no one else wanted to take.”

“Or you volunteered because you’re still insisting on proving yourself to Uther. Don’t we have breakfast with Morgana tomorrow?”

“Yes. And I have a meeting before that. And it’s called having a real job.”

“On a Saturday. I have a real job!”

“Tomorrow’s Friday, Merlin.”

“Shit.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and flipped another part of the strand out of the way. Merlin had plugged the tangled mess in before he started trying to untangle the lot, so they were surrounded by soft white light at odd angles. All of it reflecting off Merlin’s blue eyes, twinkling like something out of a fairytale.

“Did you forget about another deadline?”

“Forget is a strong word,” Merlin muttered.

“The point being, we both need to get some sleep.” Arthur raised both eyebrows in his best authoritative look.

Merlin glanced down.

“We’re kind of tangled in lights.”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur said calmly.

“Yeah?”

“You did not get us tangled up in some poor excuse for a basic white girl’s Instagram.”

“I didn’t—”

“And if you did, you will get us out of it before I actually noticed.”

Merlin made a face and started pulling at cords while Arthur stared at the ceiling with patience he did not possess. Merlin. Only for Merlin. Which, to be fair, was a terrifying thought, but he’d save that for the quiet darkness of his own room once he’d extracted his best friend from his flat.

So how it ended with Merlin asleep on his sofa and Arthur trudging towards his bed was beyond him. Despite his best efforts to kick Merlin out, the dollophead had ended up on the sofa after whining about how late it was (never mind Merlin had done that to himself).

Of course, if he asked Merlin, he’d probably say he dropped himself back on the sofa and declared he was sleeping there. And Arthur had muttered some half protests before smiling indulgently, flipping him off, and going to bed. Which was why no one was asking for Merlin’s version of events.

He opened the door to his room. And found lights strung around the windows, a garland around the headboard and a sign over the bed reading “Merry Fucking Christmas.” He shut the door.

“Merlin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The goal is to post the rest of this before Christmas (or at least New Year's, hint, hint). It’s sitting in a mostly finished state on my desktop, so Merry Christmas and more to come!


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Merlin, is my brother in the Christmas spirit yet?”

Arthur didn’t like Morgana’s grin as she lifted a forkful of eggs. He knew that grin. That grin showed up when Morgana had done something she was particularly proud of and rarely boded well for Arthur. Introducing Merlin to his sister had been a terrible idea. One of his worst, really. Although it hadn’t quite been his choice at all. By the end of the first term at uni, Merlin had shoehorned himself into every corner of Arthur’s life. Despite them starting off with a deep hatred of each other due to an unfortunate misunderstanding regarding a plate of chips. He cut off Merlin’s answer. 

“I’m a fan of Christmas, but no one can compete with Merlin’s love of the holiday. He’ll even break into your flat if he doesn’t think your decorations are festive enough.”

“I did not break in, you gave me a key.”

“Yes, for emergencies!”

Merlin slowly raised an eyebrow with his tea.

“I think you knew me better than that when you gave me the key in the first place.”

There was no protesting the truth, so Arthur kicked Merlin under the table instead. He narrowed his eyes at his sister as Merlin protested the physical abuse.

“You had something to do with this.”

“Why, dear brother, I would never.”

“To be fair,” Merlin said, around a mouthful of food. “It was my idea.”

“I doubt that.”

“She just had a few pointers.”

Arthur slammed his hand down on the table.

“I knew it!”

He turned to Morgana. “What did you think was wrong with my Christmas decorations?”

“Oh nothing, I just thought it would be entertaining.”

“I hate both of you,” Arthur said, wielding his fork in their individual directions. 

Morgana winked at Merlin and changed the subject. 

“So what you getting me for Christmas, Arthur?”

Arthur did not freeze because he was not stressed about Morgana’s Christmas present. 

“Oh, something amazing. You’ll love it.”

Morgana didn’t rib him further, just smirked over her tea, which was a bad sign.

After they’d paid and were lounging around with the ends of the tea, Merlin excused himself to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Morgana folded her hands on the table. She gave Arthur a look that always sent him into fight mode. Most of the time over Morgana’s extremely detailed opinions regarding his life decisions. 

“When, exactly, are you going to get your shit together?” 

If Morgana was going to irritate him every chance she got this holiday season, and use Merlin to do it, then he’d usurp her tactics. His Christmas decorations were fine. As was his life. 

“What are you talking about?” 

To his delight, Arthur got the annoyed reaction he’d hoped for. For all her schemes, Morgana was a direct enough person. She hated it when Arthur played dumb. 

Morgana put her mug down with more force than was strictly necessary. 

“You know full well what I’m talking about. Are you going to be lovesick over Merlin forever? 

Arthur nearly spit out his tea. He couldn’t quite express how much he’d rather continue their apparent fight over Arthur needing another plastic Santa. Or him staying or not staying at the family company. Between Merlin and Morgana all but shoving him out the door and his father being, well, his father Arthur felt his ribs would crack in two any day now. 

“First, I am not pining over anyone, and certainly—” 

“I have eyes, Arthur.” 

“Certainly not over Merlin. And second.”

“Arthur, anyone with a brain—”

“And second.” Arthur raised his voice enough to get odd looks from the table next to them. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t risk my friendship with Merlin over some crush.” 

He liked that grin of Morgana’s even less than the earlier one. 

“Oh Arthur, you poor, deluded fool.” 

“Emotions are fickle. If I wait five minutes, they’ll go away.” 

Morgana rolled her eyes. 

“Always ready to be the martyr. Has it occurred to you those feelings of yours may not be one-sided?” 

Arthur heard the blood rushing in his ears and felt the sweat gathering in his palms. It was an utterly preposterous idea, and the whisper of its mere existence shouldn’t affect him this way. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

Morgana looked as if she was on the verge of saying something else snarky and not on the list of things Arthur wanted to hear when her attention caught over his shoulder. Her face turned a little sad. 

Merlin popped back into Arthur’s field of view. 

After Morgana disappeared into her Uber, Arthur dragged Merlin into the ally near the café as if he was about to impart a close held state secret.

“Ow! Arthur, what the hell are you doing?”

“I haven’t gotten Morgana’s Christmas present yet.”

“Really? Christmas is on Tuesday, Arthur.”

“I’m aware, Merlin.”

“Not like you to be so irresponsible.”

Well, truth be told, he’d been a little preoccupied with someone else’s Christmas gift. But that was neither here nor there. That was a panic for later.

“You know how hard she is to shop for. I just want to get her something she’ll appreciate, for once.”

Merlin’s eyes softened a little.

“You’ll think of something.”

“Oh that’s brilliant, let’s go right now.”

“Arthur, what’s brilliant?” Merlin shouted after him. “What are you doing?”

Arthur stuck his head back around the corner.

“You’re going to help me shop. Come on, let’s go.”

He grinned at Merlin’s expression. He knew that one a bit too well, it was the one where Merlin was about to take a wild swing at his head knowing full well he’d never land a blow on Arthur. If Merlin would ever listen to his pointers, that might change. 

In other words, Arthur would never have to worry about Merlin’s attempted attacks.

“Arthur, does this mean you haven’t gotten my present yet either?”

“Of course I have yours. All I have to do is drag the newest political memoir off the shelf and I’m good to go.”

There was not a compelling reason to get into the truth of that particular matter.

+

Merlin was studying the clothing rack like he was wondering if it would be worth the effort to try knocking himself out with it when Arthur flourished yet another garment in front of him. 

“What about this?” 

Arthur had pulled one too many jumpers from the racks, asking for Merlin’s opinion. Even to his own eyes, they were blurring into one mass of colour. 

“Uh, sure.” 

“Merlin, you’re not being helpful.” 

Merlin pulled out his brightest, fakest smile. “It’s lovely! Morgana will look like an angel!” 

He dropped the smile. 

Arthur did his best not to slam the jumper back on the rack. The stress was creeping into his temples. Trying to divine what on earth would accurately communicate how he felt about people while also getting them something they’d like was the worst part of the holiday season. It gave him multiple headaches every year. 

“I should just tap into whatever physic link it is that Santa Claus uses,” Arthur muttered. 

Merlin snorted. 

“That’s not how Santa works.”

“Well, at least he’s more helpful than you.” 

“You dragged me along to find a present for _your_ sister!” 

“You know Morgana!” 

“Yes. She scares me.” 

Arthur laughed. “Does she really?” 

Merlin followed him out of the women’s clothing and into the shoes. “I don’t want my name on whatever you give her. Not going to be responsible if she hates it.” 

“Good to know you have my back,” Arthur said dryly. 

“You know I do. Just not when it comes to Morgana. That ire is all yours.” 

They wondered past the home goods section and Merlin backtracked to some chaotic Christmas ornaments. A mess of woodland creatures and spectacularly tacky Santas spun on the display rack. Arthur snorted. 

“She’s sure to hate those. Not to mention, Christmas ornaments make terrible Christmas presents.” 

“Not for Morgana.” Merlin picked up a wooden fox, wearing a tiny Santa hat. His eyes were glittering with happy memories. Arthur may have been a little jealous of Merlin’s childhood. He could imagine the kind of tree Hunith had let six-year-old Merlin decorate. 

“Okay, but hear me out, these ornaments are way better than what you’ve already got.” 

“… They don’t even match.”

“Christmas ornaments don’t have to follow a theme.” 

Arthur made a nose of protest. 

“Arthur.” Merlin slapped a hand on his shoulder and looked at him dead serious. “You cannot get high marks in Christmas decorations.” 

He rubbed his eyes. 

“All right, I’m done with this. Let’s find a pint.”

“You do realise you’ve got four days to find her something, right?” 

“Thanks for that reminder. Now I really need a drink.” 

+

Three pints later, Arthur was walking Merlin home. Well, Arthur was walking. Merlin was stumbling along with Arthur’s help. Several years into drinking with Arthur, and Merlin was perpetually a lightweight. An adorable lightweight, but a lightweight nonetheless. 

“Look at that—,” Merlin started, waving his hand in the vague direction of several houses, “—the lights.” 

He jammed a finger in the more general direction of a specific house with lights scattered like cheap candies. 

“Yes, gorgeous. Merlin, don’t walk in the road.” 

Arthur was having enough trouble walking in a straight line, Merlin leaning on him wasn’t helping anything. Merlin jerked them both to a stop, Arthur nearly falling on his face. 

“It’s snowing!” 

Merlin grinned up at the sky, furiously batting his eyelashes to keep his eyes open. Snowflakes caught in his dark hair and at the edge of his coat collar, turning him into a painting from a Christmas card. 

“Arthur, look.” 

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Yes, Merlin, I see.” 

He could see more snowflakes sticking to Merlin’s lashes, coating his cheekbones. Bringing out the eternal blue in his eyes. 

The snow was beginning to coat everything, just enough to make walking even more difficult. There were several flailing incidents on the way back to Arthur’s flat. 

“I’m sleeping on your sofa again,” Merlin announced. 

Arthur snorted. 

“I thought that was clear, given where we’re headed.” Arthur propped Merlin against the wall while he fumbled with his keys. 

“Right,” Merlin slurred. 

Arthur, much as it might have pained some deeper secrets of his, deposited Merlin gently on the sofa and tossed the blanket at his head before making a break for his own room. He closed the door and rested his forehead against it, taking deep breaths and talking himself into just going to bed. And not doing something drunk and stupid, say, telling Merlin how he most definitely did not feel.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning was crisp, Christmas-like, and perfect. A foot of fresh snow had the city shutdown and Merlin stuck at Arthur’s flat. Or so they both lied to each other. Really though, Merlin couldn’t possibly be expected to trudge the mile back to his own flat in this much snow. Since Arthur had the day off anyway, why not just hang around? Never mind it was a Saturday and Arthur didn’t work Saturdays. 

The fact they were outside fooling around in said snow and grinning like idiots had no bearing on any of it. 

Everything was well and good until Arthur started rolling a ball of snow in his hands, grinning wickedly. 

"If you throw a snowball in my face, so help me--" 

Merlin didn't get to finish the statement. There was an icy explosion on his skin, snow stinging his eyes. Arthur had started it now. Merlin scooped up the nearest handful of snow and flung it in the direction he hoped was Arthur’s face. Judging by the prat’s laughter, he’d missed. There was a lot of laughter ringing through the cold air as the snowball fight continued. 

He did, finally, land a few good ones on Arthur, the resulting disbelief and messed blonde hair well worth the effort. 

Merlin was winding down, hands on his knees and panting for breath.

“Oh, come on! That’s really all you’ve got?” Arthur’s smile disappeared as Merlin soundly refused to let Arthur egg him on. 

"Christmas is lame." 

Merlin snapped his head back up. 

“You're lame!”

He promptly tackled Arthur into the nearest snowdrift. Which, apparently, was not a reaction Arthur had been expecting given Merlin pulled it off. “You grinch!”

“—Oh. Ow.”

It was a lot of knocking knees and grabbing until they both finally half-extracted themselves from the snowbank, just in time to see one of Arthur’s neighbours walking by with quite the look of disdain her face. 

“Merry Christmas!” Merlin called after her. Arthur smacked him on the shoulder. “What? Oh, like I could even make that worse.”

Breathless and starting to feel the snow seeping through his trousers, Merlin hauled himself to his feet. And found himself at an utter loss. He really wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, like he’d hit the end of a script he didn’t know he was reading from. Which was ridiculous. He had an article to work on, laundry to do, a whole list of adult responsibilities. None of which included Arthur, or any further shenanigans today. In front of him, Arthur was kicking at the snowbank and trying to fit his hands into the soaked hip pockets of his jeans. 

Merlin really had to stop staring at his best friend before said person noticed. He just couldn’t help himself, Arthur really was a master at buying perfectly fitting jeans. His cheekbones were catching Merlin’s eyes more than normal. And his lips. 

Arthur looked up, locking eyes with Merlin. He smiled. Slow and steady, Merlin knew he was grinning back. It was an odd shining moment, hanging in the air like gossamer until Merlin realise it felt all too non-platonic. He laughed, throat tight. The whole thing far too important for what it was. 

“I probably ought to get my stuff and head home.” 

“You could, you know, go change and then just come hang at my place for the day.” 

It was normal for the two of them, perfectly normal. Lord knew how many jokes there’d been in uni about them being “joined at the hip.” And yet, Merlin was stuck on how little time he’d spent at his own flat in the last two days. And more disconcerting yet, how little that bothered him. 

“We’ve been at your place all weekend.” 

Arthur’s cheeks looked a shade more red than they should have from just the sharp air. 

“Right. Article due?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. 

“I mean you could come hang over at my place.” 

“Oh, sure. And be bored out of my mind while you work.” 

“Fair. And you’re like a puppy when you’re bored.”

Arthur stopped at the odd little shop on the corner, staring in the window. 

“Yep.” 

“I need to get work done and you’re distracting.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“A real menace to society.” 

“Right.” 

Arthur was still looking in the dusty window. 

“What are you looking at?” 

“What?” 

Merlin stepped in front of Arthur only to have his arm yanked backwards, sending them both in a snowbank. 

“Geez, Arthur.” 

Arthur pulled himself to his feet and offered his hand. Merlin considered just brushing him off for a moment, in which Arthur rolled his eyes and reached down to pull Merlin to his feet. 

“Sorry.” 

Merlin narrowed his eyes. 

“Sure. Well, I should get going. Besides, you’ve got an errand to run.” 

Arthur looked surprised. “What?” he squeaked out, like Merlin had just revealed he had access to Arthur’s innermost thoughts. Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Morgana’s present?” 

“Oh, right. That.” 

Merlin crossed his arms. “You still haven’t figured out what to get her, have you?” 

“I’ve got it all squared away. I think. Just need to make sure they can get it done in time.” 

“Christ, are you having custom boots made for her?” 

Arthur’s gaze settled back on Merlin, like he realised he wasn’t speaking inside his own head. 

“What?” 

“Boots. You know, for stomping on people.” 

Arthur laughed so hard he had nearly slipped on an icy patch. 

“Because I don’t think Morgana needs any encouragement in that area.” 

“Probably not,” Arthur agreed, still somewhat preoccupied. 

“Right. So what’s got you so on edge?” 

“Must be the thought of setting foot in your flat.” 

“What’s wrong with my flat?” 

“Have you seen what you did to mine? I’m fairly certain I’ll be smothered by whatever you did to yours.” 

None of which stopped Merlin from dumping a handful of snow down the back of Arthur’s collar as Arthur unlocked the main door. Arthur yelped and nearly started the whole affair all over again. 

+

Merlin was definitely not procrastinating on his article by baking. He’d stared at the computer screen until he felt like his eyes would bleed. Impulsive deciding to bake biscuits for half the block was just his way of fending off the impending wave of self-doubt.

It wasn’t working too well.

His mobile rang and Merlin jumped, sending the flour sifter spinning onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, after Merlin answered with a series of swears.

“Baking. You get Morgana’s gift yet?”

“Don’t you have a deadline?”

“I’m freelance.”

“Pretty sure you still have deadlines.”

Merlin swore as he knocked something else over with a clatter. “I’m avoiding it by baking biscuits.”

Arthur sighed into the mobile. “Someone really needs to harass you into working on that article.”

“You want to come over?”

“And corral you into working on your article?”

“No, come over and help me bake.”

“Are you a wannabe writer or a housewife?” 

“Either way, you love my peanut butter cookies. And I’m already a real writer, fuck you very much.” 

Arthur laughed. Merlin was quite the baker—not even Arthur could come up with something to make fun of him over his sweets.

+

Merlin had flour everywhere, if Arthur’s state was any indication. On his arms, on the tip of his nose. The sharp edge of his cheekbones.

Arthur had made multiple disparaging jokes when he walked into Merlin's flat a couple of hours ago. Including asking why it smelled like a cinnamon roll threw up. Merlin simply threw an apron at him (that Arthur refused to wear and then complained about the flour on his jumper) and refused to give ground on the flat. Everything that could be decorated was decorated, and Merlin felt surrounded by Christmas in all the best ways. Even if one of the first things Arthur said was, “Aren't you afraid of setting the flat on fire with all these lights?”

There were, by some miracle, biscuits in the oven. The price paid was that the kitchen, and themselves, was now a disaster zone.

“Well Merlin, it looks like you have some cleaning to do.”

“I am not cleaning this up by myself, most of this is your mess.”

Arthur picked up a kitchen towel and wiped his hands off, somehow getting more flour on them.

“What? You expect me to help with the housework?”

Arthur’s eyes were gleaming in that way Merlin had learned a long time ago meant Arthur was baiting him.

“Listen here, just because you’re a Pendragon.”

Not that it meant Merlin had ever shut up when he noticed that glint in Arthur's eye. No one ought to be allowed to look that good with streaks of flour in their hair and rouge sprinkles caught in their jumper. Merlin couldn’t help himself. 

“Just because I’m a Pendragon what?”

“Doesn’t make me your servant.”

Arthur tried to hide the smile, ending up with a lopsided smirk that was downright distracting. 

“Believe me, if I could order you around it wouldn’t be to do the dishes.”

“Consent, Arthur, consent.” 

For once, his shatter-the-subtly-with-a-hammer joke didn’t throw Arthur off balance. His own cheeks were flushing instead. 

“Maybe if I was your king, you’d actually listen to me for once.” 

Arthur licked his bottom lip and let his eyes slid down Merlin's face. Merlin lost whatever eloquent retort he’d had. 

“Oh really?”

“Uh hmmm. Maybe I could actually get you to shut up for a few minutes.”

Merlin could feel his heart beating like it was trying to escape his ribs.

The bloody doorbell decided that was the perfect moment to ring. Merlin moved towards the door, mentally swearing at whoever it was and feeling bad when he opened it to the sounds of Christmas carols.

Arthur was frozen in place back in the kitchen. Merlin smiled and leaned on the doorframe until the carollers where done with their, only a little off-key, rendition of “Hark The Harold Angels Sings.” They didn’t need to know his grin was because Arthur found Christmas carollers to be one of the more annoying things on this earth.

Merlin had just gotten the biscuits out of the oven when the doorbell rang again.

“Are you sure it’s illegal to kill carollers?”

“Yes, Arthur, Christmas still isn’t an excuse to commit crimes.”

Arthur stopped and raised an eyebrow at Merlin. “But are we sure?”

Merlin laughed.

“Oh all right, just this once.” 

“And you’ll help me dispose of the body?”

Arthur was grinning at Merlin and Merlin was grinning back.

“I give you an excuse for murder and you’re only going to murder one of them?”

“Well, I was trying to make your life easier, Merlin, but if you insist.”

“Nope, no, one body’s enough,” Merlin got out, grabbing Arthur’s arm in an attempt to stop him on his way to the door.

Arthur easily flipped him around, pinning him against the wall with Merlin’s arm trapped between them. Merlin was absolutely not grinning like an idiot to himself. His traitorous heart was still trying to escape his chest. 

“You like this position, do you?”

Merlin could feel Arthur’s fingers flex on his arm while he cleared his throat. He guaranteed if he turned around, Arthur would be bright red.

“It’s effective, with you.”

Arthur’s voice was not rougher, and Merlin did not take a second to peel himself off the wall after Arthur left go. They really had to stop doing this. 

Merlin coughed. Normal. Think about normal things. Average things. Not Arthur and not what just happened.

“You should learn to appreciate the trappings of the season. You might just pick up on a moral lesson or two. Lord knows a businessman who’s sold his soul like you could use a couple.”

Merlin realised he was talking to air.

“Arthur!”

No answer. He rolled his eyes. The prat.

Arthur was right where Merlin suspected. Rummaging through the top of Merlin’s wardrobe. Merlin stood in the doorway to his room, arms crossed and smug. “Are you trying to find your present?”

The boys had known each other long enough this had become a habit of Arthur’s. Ever since that first Christmas in uni when Arthur had caught the corner of something under Merlin’s bed and almost had a heart attack. He’d spent the next week running around looking for the perfect thing, claiming it had nothing to do with Merlin, while Merlin laughed his arse off.

“Now why would I be doing that.”

“So there’s another reason you’re standing in my room?”

“I’m….”

“This is getting to be a bad habit of yours, Arthur.”

Arthur grinned at him as he brushed past on his way back to the kitchen. “Gotta keep with traditions.”

Merlin laughed.

“You giving up already?”

“No, I’ll just come back to it later when you’re indisposed.”

Arthur back to the kitchen, stealing bits from the unbaked biscuit dough. Again. Merlin located the rolling pin. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You still have any of that mulled wine?”

“Oh, I suppose you think five minutes into the first Christmas film I’ll be sound asleep.”

“With a little luck and alcohol, yes.”

Merlin batted Arthur’s hand away from the unrolled biscuit dough.

“I’m not that bad.”

“Five minutes, Merlin, all I need is five minutes.”

“That’s what you think.” Merlin tapped a cookie cutter in the flour.

“I know where it is, you just interrupted me.”

“I don’t know, my hiding places have gotten exceptional after all these years.”

Arthur snorted.

“Some dollophead insists on keeping me on my toes.”

“Still not a word.”

Merlin smacked Arthur’s hand again. “Yes, it is. It means quit just eating the dough and help me bake it.”

“Why do we need this many biscuits?”

“They’re not for us, they’re for the neighbours.”

“Were’s the wine.”

Merlin was indeed indisposed after three glasses of mulled wine. Took more than Arthur probably thought. Happy and drunk on the sofa, he could hear Arthur rummaging around in his room. Merlin grinned into the sofa pillows.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur, golden boy that he was, could not wrap a present to save his life. Merlin turned the package over in his hands.

"How much tape did you use?”

Arthur's cheeks were bright red.

"Merlin!"

"What!"

"I did not invite you over to insult my lack of present wrapping skills. Help me!"

Merlin really, really wanted to continue the ribbing. He set Morgana’s present down on the table and started undoing the wrapping paper.

"Hand me the scissors."

Merlin took all of the paper off and crumbled it into a ball while Arthur tapped his fingers against the chair back.

“So what did you get her?”

Arthur looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Boots.”

Merlin stopped, stared into the distance for a long moment, and then resumed what he was doing.

“I’ve got to watch what I saw to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you actually listen.”

Arthur was affronted. “Of course I do.”

He blew out a breath, leaning on his hands on the table.

“How long is this going to take?”

“Patience is a virtue.” Merlin brandished the scissors at Arthur.

“I’ve got a dinner to get to.”

Merlin focused on creasing edges for a moment.

“Must be tough.”

Arthur’s fingers flexed on the table. He didn’t respond. Merlin carefully put the wrapping paper and the scissors down.

“If you ever want to talk….”

“Just fix the present, Merlin.”

It had been years since that hard edge in Arthur’s voice had been directed at him. He couldn’t help the flinch. Even if he knew Arthur didn’t mean it. Merlin went back to the present.

“It’s….” Arthur trailed off. Merlin let him. Getting Arthur to open up, especially about how he really felt about his family was, well, impossible. The best Merlin could do was keep poking and leave it. Arthur would talk when he was good and well ready. Merlin schooled his face, careful not to let the ache cracking his heart show. Sympathy was always too close to pity for Arthur's tastes and it always made him shut down further.

Arthur cleared his throat.

“Why are you so slow?”

“This, this is an art form. You want it to look like you did it?”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was a disaster.”

“Add it to the list of things I’m bad at.” 

Merlin’s head snapped up. Arthur’s mouth was a hard, thin line.

“You thought anymore about that job offer?” Merlin put the last piece of tape on the package and went hunting for the right ribbon. Why Arthur had to run about town and “pull strings” for a pair of boots he clearly bought from John Lewis was beyond him. But they did seem like the sort of thing Morgana would appreciate.

“Yeah.”

Arthur scrubbed his hands over his face, deciding to turn on the Christmas music. Merlin finished up the bow on the present, handed it to Arthur, and started cleaning up the table.

When he turned around, Arthur was sitting on the sofa, newly wrapped gift in hand, and staring into the middle distance. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused.

“I don’t want to go.”

The abrupt, and unlike him, statement brought Merlin to a screeching halt. Arthur looked younger that he had in years. Younger than when Merlin first met him.

"Wanna get shit-faced instead?

Arthur sighed, hanging his head. “Merlin, I have to go.”

Merlin slammed the vodka bottle from the bar cabinet down on the coffee table and flopped next to Arthur. “No, you don’t.”

“It’s Christmas, Merlin,” Arthur said, throwing Merlin’s own tone back in his face.

“I’ve never implied putting up with Uther had to be a part of that.”

Arthur carefully placed the wrapped package on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Pretty sure this whole bloody holiday is about family.”

“Nope,” Merlin said cheerily. Arthur looked like he deeply wanted to smack Merlin for that. He settled for lightly cuffing Merlin on the shoulder and peeling himself off the sofa. Arthur gathered up his things and paused by the door. Merlin hadn't moved.

“Are you staying?”

“What, do you want to come home to an empty flat after dinner with Uther and Morgana?”

Arthur just smiled, soft and sad, with his fingers curled around the door. He nodded and left.

Merlin was halfway through the second sappy, overdone Christmas film that he couldn’t have recounted any of the details for when keys jingled in the lock. He rolled his head towards Arthur, away from the film quietly playing on TV.

The flickering light from the TV and the soft glow of the tree lights highlighted all the sharp edges in Arthur’s face. And the sag of his shoulders.

“You okay?”

He didn’t answer. Just slid into his spot on the sofa. Everything was Christmas lights and decorations on the tree for several minutes. That quiet which only happens on Christmas Eve, air tinged with anticipation. A bit of the pure Christmas magic from childhood settled through the room, sometimes so hard to recapture as a grown-up, blanking them with a sort of hope. The train Merlin had set up around the base of the tree keeping the time with its laps.

“I hate it. Christmas was her favourite.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, just slid his hand onto Arthur’s knee. Arthur reached down and tightly laced his fingers through Merlin’s, holding on for dear life. Merlin rubbed his thumb over their joined hands, soothing Arthur back into breathing.

Arthur’s mobile lit up on the table and vibrated. He started to reach his free hand towards it. Merlin grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t.”

Arthur swallowed.

““Tomorrow’s Christmas. Whatever else your father wants to yell at you about can wait until the day after tomorrow.”

Sharp pain flashed across Arthur’s face and cohered into a tight smile. It turned out he could grip Merlin’s hand tighter. “You probably need to go.”

Merlin’s thumb stilled. “I mean ... if you want me to?”

“No, that’s not—that’s not what I meant.”

Arthur refused to let go even when Merlin started to pull his hand away, while he struggled with the words. Merlin sighed and reached for the vodka bottle still on the coffee table. He took a swig and passed it to Arthur.

“What do you expect me to do, take shots from the bottle like we’re back at uni?”

“Yes.”

Arthur shrugged. “Works for me.”

At some point later, everything blurred from the vodka buzzing through their brains, Merlin stumbled back from the bathroom to find Arthur brushing crumbs his mouth. He stopped, staring wide-eyed at Arthur. And then the empty biscuit plate on the coffee table.

"Oh, where those biscuits for Santa?"

"Yes!"

"Well, what're you gonna do about it?"

Merlin opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

And then tackled Arthur. Arthur squawked as Merlin pulled him down to the ground, biscuit flying somewhere Arthur was going to try to make Merlin clean up.

The antique clock on the mantle, a family heirloom Uther insisted on Arthur having, chimed midnight.

Arthur flipped them over, inelegantly sitting on Merlin. He snapped his fingers. “It’s Christmas!”

Merlin giggled before rolling his eyes. “Observant one, you are.”

Arthur smacked his shoulder.

“It means I can give you your Christmas present.”

Merlin felt immensely sad at that. “I didn’t bring yours with me.”

“Not important, you can give it to me later.” Arthur winked as he walked away.

“Wait, Arthur, did you actually find it this year? Arthur!”

Arthur came back with a gift bag, grinning. Merlin stared at the bright red bag and crinkly white tissue paper.

“You couldn’t have just put Morgana’s present in a gift bag?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and dropped the gift in Merlin’s lap. “Open it.”

“You’re rude.”

Arthur dropped down to the sofa and nudged Merlin with his shoulder. “Open it.”

Merlin pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, carefully pulling away to reveal a beautiful leather journal. With an inscription on the bottom corner. His heart stopped when he read it.

_For my journalist. Be brilliant. ___

__“It’s gorgeous,” Merlin said, running his fingers over the soft leather._ _

__“I thought so. Had to get you something to keep those scattered-brained thoughts of yours in order.” Arthur nudged Merlin again._ _

__Merlin started laughing. And then realised that was offensive._ _

__“I am not scatter-brained.”_ _

__Arthur chuckled as Merlin slumped onto his shoulder. Merlin struggled to remember why he should be mad at Arthur, everything drowning in the knowledge that Arthur thought of him as a real journalist. Hard working. With a real job._ _

__“So that’s what you were staring at in the shop window,” Merlin muttered._ _

__Arthur laughed and pulled him to his chest._ _

__“It’s great,” Merlin mumbled into Arthur’s shirt._ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Nah, I hate it.”_ _

__Arthur wrapped his other arm around Merlin, pulling him close. Everything was warm and fuzzy. Especially Arthur._ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested, [this](https://improbablyhope.tumblr.com/post/189847921105/winterholiday-prompts) tumblr post was the inspiration for a lot of this fic. If you want to play spot the reference. :)

When Arthur cracked an eye open the next morning, his first thought was deep regret for the amount of vodka he’d consume the night before. The second was the stocking hanging off the mantle looked lumpy. What could he expect when Merlin was the one buying Christmas decorations? Cheap, lumpy, stockings, that’s what, he mused while running his hand up and down the arm slung over his chest. An arm attached to Merlin, still asleep, curled up into Arthur’s side. 

His hand froze and his heart went crazy. The only thing he could focus on was Merlin pressed against him, perfectly at ease. Merlin was lucky he was cute, this wasn’t the most comfortable. Arthur started to notice the soreness in his neck from sleeping on the sofa. The entire flat was quiet with the tail ends of magic that only came once a year, the lights on the tree still twinkling through the tinsel. Everything was perfect as his heart rate dropped back down. It seemed so normal, as if he woke up every morning curled up to Merlin. 

Merlin yawned, stretching against Arthur. He stilled, Arthur counting off moments as Merlin likely went through the same train of thought he had earlier. Hopefully lumpy stocking included, Merlin ought to get a refund for something so misshapen. 

Arthur glanced down to find Merlin looking at him. He couldn’t help the slow smile creeping across his face. Merlin’s hair was sticking out in as many directions as physics allowed. 

“Morning.” 

“Merry Christmas, Arthur.” 

Arthur knew he was grinning like an idiot. 

“Merry Christmas, Merlin.” 

Merlin grinned back as his head drifted back to Arthur’s chest. Several minutes later, he untangled himself and wandered off to the bathroom. Arthur couldn’t quite bring himself to get off the sofa, lounging with one arm flung over his forehead. 

Merlin came back into the room and sat down at the edge of the sofa, putting on his shoes. 

“If it’s Christmas, why are we awake so early?” 

“Because I’ve got to get home and then to my mum’s.”

“And why are you whispering?”

Merlin’s eyes were twinkling. 

“Because it’s Christmas morning!”

Arthur winced at the sudden change in volume, lamenting the lack of a middle ground. 

Merlin shrugged into his jacket. 

“By the way, it looks like Santa came.” He nodded towards the stocking. 

Merlin set a glass of water on the coffee table, still smiling at him. Arthur took the glass and peeled himself off the sofa to go inspect said stocking. He found a handful of various sweets (all the kinds he used to buy during stressful times at uni) and a pen with a plastic dragon on top. 

“You two should get along.”

“Clever, Merlin.”

“You’re so alike.”

“Really, you don’t have to say it.”

“Because he’s a pen-dragon too.” 

Arthur groaned. He looked at the sweets in his hands, back at Merlin, and then at the stocking. There was no way any of this had been in that stocking last night. 

“How?” 

Merlin winked, heading for the door. 

“Merlin! How?” 

He just waltzed out the door like the impertinent clotpole he was. 

Arthur ran a finger along the edge of a metallic wrapper, full implications settling into his head. Merlin must have gotten up in the middle of the night. And come back to bed. Well, back to the sofa. 

He smiled as he twirled the pen between his fingers. Utterly ridiculous, right along with Merlin’s ears and lack of any control over his lanky limbs. The memory of Merlin’s face when he opened the journal had Arthur grinning like the love struck idiot Morgana might be right about him being. Maybe everything would turn out okay. 

Not that he was ever telling his sister any of it. Morgana would never let him hear the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not short, it’s fun sized. 
> 
> Last two chapters will be up sometime later this week. Merry Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6

“Morgana wants to go ice skating.”

Merlin didn't glance up from his book. “That's nice.”

“With us.”

He jerked his head up, hoping the horror was showing. Given Arthur's smirk, it was.

“I don't skate.”

Arthur shrugged.

“Morgana didn't seem to think that was a sufficient excuse.”

Merlin groaned and smacked his head into the open book he'd just been throughly enjoying. Along with the peace and comfort of the indoors. He nodded towards the table.

“Your present’s on the table.”

“You’re late.”

“You got me drunk!”

Arthur picked up the wrapped box. “Excuses, Merlin.”

Merlin mutter to himself about a certain ungrateful prat. Arthur continued smirking as he ripped into the wrapping paper.

The smirk turned into a soft smile, spreading over his face as he pulled The Perfect Tie out of its box. Someone had been paying more attention than Arthur realised all the times he’d dragged said someone past that shop window. 

Merlin ducked his head towards his book, face crinkled up again.

Arthur walked past him, landing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Merlin kept his focus on the book, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder and let go. “Grab your stuff! We’re going.”

Merlin’s groan echoed down the hallway.

+

Holiday cheer was still much alive, the ice rink decked in holly and Christmas lights. And screaming children, who were doing nothing for Merlin's already on-edge nerves. He had to stop letting Arthur drag him to physically demanding activities he didn't have the skills for. Mr Rugby didn't believe unathletic people existed, only people who lacked the proper experience. 

Morgana threw her hands up in the air. “Oh look who finally showed up.”

“Merlin was dragging his feet.” Arthur gestured in Merlin’s exasperated direction before hugging Morgana.

“Surely it wasn't Merlin's fault, of all people,” Morgana said, smiling and hugging Merlin.

Morgana was lovely and sweet right until she wasn't. Merlin put a fair amount of effort into keeping Arthur between him and Morgana's bad side.

“Good to see you both, Arthur, you have any important news to tell us or are you going to wait for the most inopportune moment?”

Merlin scrunched his eyebrows and glanced between the two of them. There was a hard set to Arthur's jaw.

“Something happen at Christmas Eve?” Merlin asked.

“You mean other than our father being throughly and utterly himself?”

Morgana slapped Arthur. Merlin flinched and Arthur didn't.

“Ow! I thought you said you weren't upset!”

“I'm not upset you accepted the job offer. I'm upset you didn't warn me!”

Arthur winced.

Morgana pushed off the side, filing in with the circle of people moving around the rink. She skated away. Backwards.

“How does she do that?!”

“Not everyone lacks the coordination you do, Merlin.”

“You took the job?”

Arthur didn't answer, just sat down and started putting on his skates. Merlin sat next to him and did the same. He'd just settled on what snippy thing to say regarding Arthur not bothering to tell him he'd taken the job when the royal prat started speaking. His voice so low Merlin almost missed it.

“Thanks for the advice, and the nudging. I wouldn't have done it without you.”

Merlin promptly shut his mouth. Arthur stood up.

“And I'd still be miserable,” Arthur added, grinning down at Merlin. He had that thousand-watt smile, enough to melt away even Merlin's frustration at him.

“I'm glad you're happy.”

He meant it. He'd had exactly enough of seeing Arthur clenching his fists and grinding his teeth over Uther’s unreasonable expectations.

“I am.” Arthur held his hand out towards Merlin. Merlin grimaced.

“Do I have to do this?”

Arthur yanked him to his feet.

There was a reason Merlin didn't ice skate. He was perfectly graceful under normal circumstances, ignoring what Arthur had to say about the matter, but adding blades and ice to the whole situation threw him off.

Morgana and Arthur both got a good laugh out of Merlin's clumsy efforts to keep his feet under him.

“Honestly, it amazing you don't injure yourself more. You're like a perpetually newborn deer.”

Merlin glared at Arthur. The fact he was still gripping the railing with white knuckles undoing most of the effect for him.

“I hope you break your arse on that ice.”

Arthur skated away, laughing into his gloved hand.

Merlin got the hang of it. Well. He moved off the wall and cautiously around the rink, still unsteady and flailing. Arthur spent as much of the time laughing at Merlin as Morgana spent rolling her eyes. Merlin spent his time staring more than he meant to at Arthur. His eyes were shining, and his cheeks were red from the cold. He wouldn’t stop smiling, even when insulting Merlin per usual. Happy. Arthur looked happy. Light in a way Merlin had never seen. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Morgana said, grabbing Merlin’s arm and pulling him around the rink a little faster than Merlin was ready for; resulting in his deep concentration on the ice and less on what Morgana was saying.

“We’re just being us.”

And even less on what he was saying in response.

“Yes. I’ve noticed. Two idiots in love. Too bad you are both too dense to pick up on it.”

“I... we... what?”

Morgana didn’t answer, just pulled him back to his feet.

“What did you just say?”

“You two are teetering on the edge.” Morgana gave him a little push forward on his own. “Someone just needs to shove you over before you drive the rest of us entirely crazy.”

Merlin spluttered, not able to get a coherent thought in his head, let alone out of his mouth. He made a couple laps around the rink without noticing much, the mental energy Morgana had just sapped from him the last of it all. There was a sharp line between Merlin holding his own by a thread and an exhausted Merlin who was still upright only by some form or another of magic.

“Had enough?” Arthur asked, barely loud enough for Merlin to hear over the still shrieking children.

“I’m fine,” Merlin answered, ignoring the lack of feeling in his toes and the bruises forming on his back.

“You sure? Your nose is bright red.”

“I'm fine, Arthur.”

“You're kind of cute when you look like Rudolph.”

Merlin scrunched his eyes up.

“The reindeer?”

“No, my dentist. Yes, the reindeer.”

“Prat.”

+

The next few days were consumed with Merlin's article. Holiday season or not, the news waited for no one. 

“Where are you?” Arthur asked, calling for the third time in as many minutes. Merlin had felt bad when he realised that buzzing had been his mobile. 

“Uh.” Merlin squinted at the nearest sign. “Flowerbridge Street.” 

“Where?” 

“Working, I’ll be back in a couple days.” 

“Oh.” 

It went silent on Arthur’s end for a long minute. As if Arthur also didn’t want to bring up the fact they were acting like love-struck teenagers. And they weren’t even a couple. It was that hazy, confusing grey area where Merlin wished Morgana would leave them pleasantly alone. 

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Merlin repeated, juggling his mobile and his notepad while trying to figure out what direction was currently north. 

He had to check the screen to make sure they hadn’t been disconnected. 

“Morgana invited me—you—us, to her New Year Eve’s party. If you’ll be back in time.” 

There was something in Arthur’s voice Merlin couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Um, yeah, I’ll be back.” 

“You don’t have to.” Now he was quiet. Merlin was never certain what to do with quiet. Especially Arthur’s. Arthur acted, he didn’t do quiet and pensive. Merlin hadn’t figured out what to do in these rare moments. Other than kick Arthur into taking what Merlin hoped was the course of action he needed to take. Not really the solution for the given instance. 

“I want to,” Merlin said, firm and keeping all the situational confusion out of his voice. Where the fuck was this bloody address? It was an issue when not even Google could figure out where he was going. 

“Great! Can’t wait to see you, yeah?” 

Merlin laughed. He couldn’t help it, he’d never heard Arthur sound so eager. 

“Well someone’s excited.” 

Arthur made some sort of protesting noise and a half-baked excuse Merlin let alone because it left them both a bit of cover to continue with the charade. 

“See you soon.” He paused, grinning so hard Arthur could probably see it through the mobile. “Darling.” 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin hung up, laughing hard enough to get him a few stares.


	7. Chapter 7

“You can’t wear that!”

Merlin scowled, not bothering to hide how deeply offensive he found that.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It’s Morgana.”

“Yeah? So?”

Arthur waved a hand over Merlin.

“So you can’t show up looking like that! You’re not even wearing a tie!”

Merlin kept glaring at him.

“You have suggestions?”

Arthur levelled a look at him. Merlin knew where this was going, but he was going to make Arthur work for it.

“Yes.”

In the end, he was glad Arthur made him change. Morgana noticed he was wearing one of Arthur’s ties, but despite her wide eyes she didn’t say anything. For once.

The first floor of Morgana’s house was full of sparkling decorations and sparkling people. There was music coming from somewhere, and a champagne flute found its way into Merlin’s hand. The whole affair felt like pure magic.

Arthur dragged him around the room saying hi to people. It was good to see Leon again. And Percival. Arthur pulled a bit of a face when Gwaine showed up and hugged Merlin soundly. How ever many years of friendship, and Arthur still disliked Gwaine for reasons Merlin had never quite figured out.

A little alcohol in him, and with Gwaine’s egging, Merlin found himself going on about the implications of recent comments made by a deputy party leader at a level of detail only a political journalist could love. He saw Gwaine’s gleeful grin and everyone else’s slight groans, but it didn’t stop him. It never did. And even if it would have, the genuine interest in Arthur’s eyes was all he needed. Right in the middle of Merlin’s detailed rant about said party, a blonde wedged herself into the group.

“Hey all! Been a while.”

She was staring straight at Arthur and if Merlin didn’t know better, batting her eyelashes. He knew full well people stopped paying attention about five minutes in when he got into the gritty details of politics, but they typically refrained from so rudely interrupting.

“Vivian!”

Merlin took the drink out of Arthur’s loosening grip and set it on the table.

“So you do remember me.”

Definitely batting her lashes. Definitely blonde and gorgeous like every one of Arthur’s ex-girlfriends so far. And most of the ex-boyfriends. Merlin felt a stab of something uncomfortable in his chest he refused to name. He focused on the paintings on the walls and the golden streamers as Vivian laughed at one of Arthur’s more lame jokes.

Merlin was contemplating walking away and finding the champagne when Gwaine nudged his shoulder and nodded towards Arthur.

Who looked as uncomfortable as Merlin felt. His smile was so tight his whole face would shatter if he stretched it any further. Merlin studied his face, curious. Letting his eyes roam over the perfect lips and brilliant eyes that distracted him far too often. Arthur’s eyes caught his own, the tight edges around Arthur’s face loosening.

One of Vivian’s friends showed up and tried to drag her away. She resisted, making inane comments about being in the perfect place to see the ball drop on the TV. The friend leaned closer and whispered something in Vivian’s ear that made her roll her eyes.

“You shouldn’t and you know better.”

The brunette laughed and walked away, unsteady.

“Gotta go talk her down, or she’ll do something she’ll regret for the next year.”

Leon smiled. “It’s what friends are for. I should know.”

He took a sip of his drink, maintaining eye contact with Arthur the whole time. Vivian grimaced and followed the brunette.

“She seems keen on standing near you at midnight. Can’t imagine why,” Merlin deadpanned.

“Traditionally, on New Year’s Eve, at the countdown to midnight—”

Merlin swatted Arthur’s arm. “I’m well aware of the New Year’s kiss-at-midnight tradition.”

Morgana joined the group, looping her arm through her brother’s. “Oh, so are we telling stories of New Year’s kisses now? Because I have a hilarious one about Arthur and Vivian, when they were twelve.”

Arthur groaned. “Oh God, let’s not.”

Merlin nudged Morgana. “Oh, let’s do. So this isn’t the first New Year’s kiss she’s tried to wring out of him, huh?”

“We’re not getting into this unless Morgana wants to bring up stories about Thomas.”

Morgana punched Arthur’s arm.

“Wait, who’s Thomas?”

“Oh, Morgana’s teenage boyfriend.”

Arthur had a cheshire cat smile that told Merlin if they’d been standing anywhere but here, Morgana would have tackled him. And truth be told, even her six-inch heels didn’t quite explain why she hadn’t.

“Merlin! Your turn,” Morgana said with a laugh as she shoved Arthur.

Merlin could feel his cheeks burning. He ducked his head. On the list of questions he didn’t want to answer….

“I’m not the biggest fan of the holiday,” he muttered.

“Wait, you’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?”

Merlin had never felt so uncomfortable. Ever.

“How?”

“Arthur!” He could feel his cheeks on fire.

“What?”

Morgana laughed and walked away to continue playing hostess. The next time Merlin saw her, she was in a rush, handing out noisemakers and shoving certain people closer. All of whom were nervously glancing at each and blushing.

“God, Morgana looks like she’s lost her mind.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh yeah, sure, that explains it.” Merlin planted a hand on Arthur’s arm. “I hate to break it to you, but your sister is crazy.”

Arthur laughed, the laugh where he leaned his head back and just lost it in mirth. The kind of laughter that drew Merlin’s eye to the length of Arthur’s neck and down to his broad shoulders. And then made him fake cough and get his shit back together.

He couldn’t very well be caught staring at his best friend’s neck.

Could he?

Arthur had settled back into a wry chuckle, eyes sparking, and telling Merlin he’d better not let Morgana hear what he’d said.

There seemed to be more people in the room, and they were taking more than their fair share of the oxygen. Merlin tugged at his borrowed tie.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t think we could fit more people in this room.”

“I need some air,” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin’s wrist and pulling him through the crowd.

The cold night air and crunching snow at the edge of the patio were the most welcome things Merlin had ever experienced. Arthur let go of his wrist, the touch lingering.

“So you’ve really never kissed someone on New Year’s?” Arthur asked softly.

Merlin closed his eyes, enjoying the burn of the cold air going through his lungs.

“The timing just never worked out.”

He cracked an eye open. Fully expecting incredulity and finding soft disbelief.

“I do not,” Arthur continued, “Understand how someone hasn’t just fallen in love with you and you kissed you, all in the space of the New Year’s countdown.”

Was he running his thumb over Merlin’s hand? He was running his thumb over Merlin’s hand.

Oh. He was holding Merlin’s hand.

Merlin’s mind caught up as his breath clouded in front of him, and Arthur’s hand came up to his face. Voices inside started shouting numbers, Merlin and Arthur alone in the freezing cold.

“Eight! Seven!”

Arthur was so incredibly close, his breath hot over Merlin’s cheek.

“Six! Five!”

Merlin’s world had narrowed to Arthur. Arthur and his broad shoulders and the heat radiating off of him.

“Three!”

“Do you want that to change?”

Oh holy fuck. Leave it to Arthur.

“Yes,” Merlin whispered.

“One!”

Arthur cupped Merlin’s face with his hands, running his thumbs along Merlin’s cheekbones before pressing his lips to Merlin’s. Nothing existed but Arthur. Arthur’s lips and Arthur’s hands, along his neck and into his hair. Arthur’s tongue sliding into Merlin’s mouth. Everything and nothing making Merlin dizzy, holding onto Arthur.

“Happy New Year,” Arthur whispered, pulling back and again running his thumbs over Merlin’s cheeks.

“Happy New Year,” Merlin whispered, clinging to Arthur’s wrists like the end of days.

Arthur let go to throw his arms around Merlin. He buried his face in Merlin’s hair. And had the audacity to laugh.

“What?”

“We really are two clueless idiots.”

“Oh shut up.”

Arthur moved back enough to smile at Merlin.

“Gladly,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. Thanks so much for reading!


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